Next week is my 65th birthday. Sixty-five was the age at which my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. She lived with her disease for 11 years, with her children caring for her first at home and eventually moving her into a long-term care home.
The last few years were very difficult for all of us. She lost her teeth and her ability to speak. It was terrible.
I’ve been worrying about putting my own children through the same thing my brothers and sisters and I went through. Thankfully, I’m not feeling any of the signs or symptoms or the disease. Mostly, I’m thankful that I can remember my mom, not just in those last painful years, but as a young woman with her four children and husband.
